


don't even take this bet

by intimacycaricature



Series: a picturesque score of passing fantasy [3]
Category: Waterparks (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Vampire Bites, Vampires, but really not that slow if we're being honest, slow burn: speedrun edition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-17 18:07:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29104542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intimacycaricature/pseuds/intimacycaricature
Summary: "It's all a game to Otto, a game that Awsten has no choice but to play..."After the masquerade ball, everything changes.
Relationships: Awsten Knight/Otto Wood
Series: a picturesque score of passing fantasy [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2012458
Comments: 9
Kudos: 18





	don't even take this bet

**Author's Note:**

> against alllll my better judgment i am posting this chapter even though the story outline isn't even 100% done, because... well i'm impatient and i know y'all want more vampires so who am i to deprive you of that?
> 
> this work is part 3 of a series. you don't necessarily have to read the first 2 to understand this one, but i'd really recommend it :)
> 
> when i finish this monster it may just be the longest work i've ever written, definitely the longest i've ever posted. i'm really excited to see it through and i hope you guys enjoy it. shoutout to awtto nation for always being my hype men on this one, and to sydney [randombubblegum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/randombubblegum/pseuds/randombubblegum) for betaing and helping me get my shit together. read on!

The room is dark and quiet. A digital clock on the table next to the couch reads _3:48am_. Occasionally, one might hear the quiet flipping of a page or the clink of a coffee mug, but otherwise, the silence permeates the air so thickly it is almost tangible. A desk is tucked into the corner, illuminated only by the yellow glow of a nearby lamp. There, hunched over a heavy tome just barely legible in the dim light, is a young man with wild hair and heavy bags under his eyes.

The neighbors know Awsten Knight as the boy who works at a tiny record store with his two roommates. The place does well enough for itself, given how hard it is to make a living selling CDs and vinyl these days. It’s enough for the trio to afford their decent apartment and live a decent life. A mundane life. A _normal_ life. Now, if you were to ask the neighbors where exactly this record store is, they wouldn’t be able to tell you. Never came up in conversation, they suppose. They’re sure it’s somewhere in town.

The record store isn’t real, of course, but they don’t need to know that. All the legal documentation and tax forms will lead you to an empty lot and a nonexistent elderly owner by the name of Travis Riddle (Travis had protested to having his name on the forgeries. Zakk had laughed in his face and told him he had an “old man name”. Things were so much simpler then). No, the truth is, Awsten Knight does not lead a normal life, hasn’t in years now.

It’s not like he wanted this. That’s the pesky thing about the supernatural. Once you’re in, you’re in. No going back. Normal no longer exists to you. Awsten’s had to learn that the hard way. They all have.

They abandoned normal when Jawn abruptly learned of the existence of vampires and promptly (somewhat accidentally) earned his first kill the same night.

They abandoned normal when they sat on the floor of the living room, whittling wood into sharpened stakes together and discussing who was going to buy the guns.

They abandoned normal when Zakk’s death was quietly ruled a suicide. The police never did come up with an explanation for what he allegedly used to punch two gaping holes in his neck, or for the noticeable lack of blood at the crime scene. That’s about the time Awsten realized that there was only one way out of this business.

He supposes he shouldn’t say that. Travis made it out.

But Travis also won’t speak to them anymore, won’t answer Awsten’s calls or texts or even emails, for God’s sake. He wouldn’t be caught dead outside his home the minute the sun dips below the horizon, either. Both figuratively and literally: he wasn’t in the business of hunting vampires for long, but it was long enough to put a target on his back.

Awsten doesn’t love what he does, but he thinks it’s better than living like that, constantly on edge. Then again, he’s not all that different. The only real thing that separates them is that Travis has no idea what might be coming for him. Awsten, on the other hand, knows exactly what lurks in the night.

Perhaps he should consider himself lucky. The vast majority of vampires they deal with are young, clumsy, and drunk on newfound power. The older vampires are much harder to kill, but they're also much smarter. Awsten wasn’t always so sure of that. He’d heard it, of course, from more experienced hunters back when he could barely hold a gun. But it was hard to believe that age could make such a difference until he discovered it for himself when they first met Otto Wood.

It was immediately apparent when the hunters encountered him that Otto was different from the average street vampire. He was strong. Intelligent. Fast. He was _dangerous_. While the younger ones killed indiscriminately, controlled completely by their bloodlust, older vampires like Otto killed because they wanted to. 

Awsten can remember quite clearly the moment he realized what it all meant. They hunted Otto for months, and the vampire always seemed just out of reach. There were some close calls, too, the most memorable being the incident that left Geoff in a cast and out of commission for six weeks. But they could never kill him, and he never killed them. Awsten had always assumed that was unintentional until the night Otto made it abundantly clear that it wasn’t.

_The breath is knocked out of Awsten's lungs as Otto shoves him against the concrete wall, twisting his arm behind his back. Awsten yelps when he yanks a bit too far, arching his back in an attempt to ease the strain. Otto laughs and moves closer until they're pressed together, his chest against Awsten's back. Awsten can scarcely move without risking seriously hurting his shoulder, or worse, leaning back into Otto’s chest._

_“You're getting sloppy, Knight,” Otto murmurs in Awsten's ear. “No wonder the life expectancy for hunters is so abysmal.”_

_“Fuck you,” Awsten spits, turning his head and craning to make eye contact._

_Otto just twists Awsten's wrist tighter behind him. He seems satisfied with the strangled noise of pain Awsten makes, but he doesn't let go. This is it, then. This is how Awsten dies._

_“Not even gonna put up a fight? Look at you. God, you're so… human,” Otto muses. “So fragile. I'm surprised you made it this far without someone breaking you like a toothpick.”_

_“Shut up,” Awsten growls. “Get the hell off me.”_

_Otto just chuckles again, leaning further against Awsten._

_“No, I don't think I will,” he says. “I wanna enjoy this. I think it's only fair after how long you've been a pain in my ass, right?”_

_He snaps his teeth next to Awsten's ear and Awsten flinches hard, barely clamping down on the terrified squeak that threatens to escape. He's still got one free hand and a stake is hidden away inside his jacket, but he doesn't think he could get to it without Otto noticing. And he really, really does not want to go home with a broken arm. Where the hell are Geoff and Jawn?_

_“You should hear your heartbeat right now,” Otto purrs. “You aren’t_ scared _of me, are you?”_

_Awsten doesn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer to that question. He grits his teeth and tries his best to keep the tremble out of his voice._

_“The fuck are you waiting for, huh?” he demands. “Just kill me and get it over with.”_

_“Why would I do that?” Otto asks. “If I wanted to kill you, I would’ve done it a long time ago. But you’re_ fun _. I’m not giving you up that easily.”_

_It goes over Awsten’s head now, but later the flippancy of Otto’s tone, the ease in which he toys with him, will strike him. It’s all a game to Otto, a game that Awsten has no choice but to play._

_“I hate you,” Awsten snarls. “I'll fucking kill you.”_

_“Mhmm,” Otto hums. “Gonna be hard to do that with a dislocated shoulder, isn't it?”_

_Awsten's eyes go wide. “Don't—!”_

_He squirms, trying to break Otto's hold, but it's no use, Otto's already tightening his grip on Awsten's wrist and—_

_“Hey!”_

_They both freeze at the sound of a new voice at the entrance to the alley. The sound of a gunshot echoes off the walls, the bullet embedding itself in the concrete mere feet from the two of them, and the weight on Awsten's back disappears as Otto bolts. He stumbles away from the wall and whirls around just in time to see Jawn firing shots in the direction Otto ran, but the vampire is long gone._

After that night, it was clear to Awsten that the hunters, himself especially, were only alive because Otto wanted them to be. A part of Awsten had always thought that maybe this impasse they found themselves at could be because they were just that equally matched— maybe he was stupid to think that the hunters ever stood a chance. He hates every aspect of it, the loss of control most of all, and he knows the others do too. Maybe— 

“Awsten.”

He nearly jumps out of his seat at the sound of the sudden whispered voice. He can just make out Jawn’s silhouette in the hallway, leaning against the wall.

“What?”

“Go to bed, man,” Jawn murmurs, his voice thick with the remnants of sleep. “It’s fuckin’ four in the morning.”

“Can’t,” Awsten says, flipping the page of the book in front of him. “I’m doing research.”

“You were just staring into space,” Jawn argues. “C’mon, you’ve gotta be tired.”

Awsten wordlessly brandishes the mug still half-filled with coffee. It’s ice-cold by now, but Jawn doesn’t need to know that. Jawn rolls his eyes.

“You know, when you deprive yourself of sleep, your brain gets so exhausted it just stops absorbing information,” Jawn says. “I think you’re probably there.”

Awsten groans, pushing his hair back from his face. “Fuck off.”

He slams the book shut anyway, shoving it away from him and rising from the desk. This kind of thing has become routine, and he knows better at this point than to fight Jawn on it. He can just make out Jawn’s face in the dark, his expression an odd mixture of satisfaction and sympathy. Awsten begrudgingly flicks the lamp off, plunging the room into blackness.

Whatever it is Awsten’s gotten himself into, he knows it’s far from over. There is only one thing he is absolutely sure of: he will not let Otto Wood get the best of him.

**Author's Note:**

> *narrator voice* he will absolutely let otto wood get the best of him
> 
> aaaaaand this is your formal welcome to "don't even take this bet"! more coming uhh... *sweats* as soon as it's written lol. in the meantime let me know what you think!! comments/kudos are very much appreciated always :3
> 
> tumblr: [peachluhbotomy](https://peachluhbotomy.tumblr.com)  
> fic blog: [intimacycaricature](https://intimacycaricature.tumblr.com)


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